


1000 Titans

by YumKiwiDelicious



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Discrimination, F/M, marriage laws, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-01 07:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17863391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumKiwiDelicious/pseuds/YumKiwiDelicious
Summary: "I believe one thousand humans should be paired with one thousand metahumans for the purpose of procreation so that our people can finally be one."-Superman||Teen Titans AU based on the novel One Thousand White Women||





	1. Prologue

There was blood pooling in her mouth from where she had bitten clean through her tongue during the last shock wave. The doctors all milled around about her head, humming quietly to themselves and scribbling nonsense on notepads as her sweat pooled beneath her on the metal slab table. The scratch of pens against paper buzzed in her ear like the cicadas she had once read about back when she was allowed to read. Scritch - scratch - scritch - scratch. Every sound was amplified, turning their delicate diagnostics into crashing gibberish in her ears that was nearly drowned out by scritch - scratch - scritch - scratch. There was a light shining just over her face, blinding her. She couldn’t see who loomed over her after a moment; could only see that they blocked out the light of the lamp like blotting out the light of the sun.

“Why are you here?”

She couldn’t talk, her tongue was severed.

“Are you a witch?”

She blinked back unconsciousness, her purple hair matted down and slick with sweat. She couldn’t answer.

“Shock her again, this time at 200.”

The man that blocked out the sun moved away and another figure appeared. Slimmer, shorter; a woman. The white sleeves of her lab coat were pushed up to her elbows as she brought two large metal rods down to either side of her patient’s temple. Her yellow hair caught the lamp light, falling over her shoulder as she told her colleagues to clear the table and nodded for the charge to be flipped on. The ECT machine hummed to life and the girl on the table convulsed as 200 watts of electricity went ripping through her body.

Her teeth ground together until she thought they may break. Her limbs, strapped down to the table, thrashed violently. Her head shook back and forth in a futile attempt to dislodge the rods that sent current after current of all consuming pain through her. It felt like she was being torn to pieces and then said pieces were also being torn to pieces and so on and on for all of eternity. However, deep down she knew better. She had this treatment three times a week; she could run the whole operation herself. They couldn’t run the charge for more than six seconds if they wanted to keep her alive.

“Enough.” The pain stopped and she came back to herself and a high keening noise sounded from the back of her throat. Tears had forced themselves out of her eyes and were skittering down into her hair. The blonde doctor moved away and the man came back to blot out the sun once more. “Are you a witch?”

She shook her head ‘no’, whole body trembling like a leaf on a tree. Or a piece of trash in the street.

“Why are you here?”

Her mouth fell open with trembling lips, the copper tang of blood still lingering, but her tongue somehow managing to actually form words. It was stitched back together almost like it had never been otherwise.

“Because I have delusions about using magic,” she uttered, shifting uncomfortably as she realized she had wet herself on the table. Again. “I think I can move things with my mind and...read people’s thoughts.”

“Can you?”

“No.” 

So broken, so unsure, yet still in that moment she swore she felt a smug satisfaction spring up at her own admittance of fraud. The doctor hummed his pleasure, finally moving the lamp away so the girl on the table could blink away the tears and spots in her eyes. The room was starting to empty, the asylum specialists all having other places to be and psychos to see. They unstrapped her wrists and feet as the main psychiatrist on her case helped her sit up, offering a paper cup of water.

“That’s right,” he cooed, voice like dripping oil as he smoothed a hand over her damp back. “That is all in your mind. Remember you came to us because you wanted help to free yourself of these delusions.”

And what help they had provided. When she’d first arrived at the gates of Arkham Asylum, alone and at the edge of her rope, she’d had no idea what the doctors there would put her through. She had been so afraid of the constant rustling within her own mind, and worn down from the barrage of emotions flooding her at any moment she wasn’t alone that the looming edifice of Gotham City’s premier asylum had seemed like her only option. Three months in the bedlam and she was beginning to wonder if insane people were brought here for help, or if this was where insane people were created.

Still, the humming in her head had seemed...quieter since her treatments had begun. She smiled wanly at the man who had killed the sun. The orderlies were waiting to guide her like a zombie back to her room. There was no more scritch - scratch - scritch - scratch.

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” she murmured, slipping off the table, her wet pants chafing her thighs.

“You’re welcome, Raven.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I don’t like this, Kal-El.”

The Man of Steel turned with one eyebrow raised high. His companion approached with an heir of royalty, the members of the secret service sent out to receive them skittering out of her path. The woman reached his side and stood at his shoulder, looking out across the vast lawn that served as the entrance to the American White House. Way out beyond the gates were news crews and reporters all vying for an opportunity to speak with a member of the Justice League. If only they knew the Amazonian princess would crush them beneath her boots as soon as look at them, they would not scream so loudly for her attention.

The day was sunny and distinctly cheery considering they were about to enter what he had no doubt would be a very heated negotiation with the leaders of the country. For years they had been in a deadlock with these talks, but now Clark Kent felt he had finally discovered a solution that would mean peace between the human race and the metahuman race. No more fighting, no more hiding, no more suicide squads banded to chip away at his kind’s fortitude. 

“So you’ve said.”

The warrior scoffed deep in her throat, sharp eyes honing in on people further back behind the press holding signs of either adoration or condemnation for her teammates. Kal watched her profile closely, drinking in every detail of this goddess fell to earth. The way her thick hair fell over her shoulder, dulling, but not truly hiding the glint of her armor. How her flawless face remained still like stone while still managing to convey an array of emotions that rang loud and clear as she spoke.

“These people do not deserve us.”

Contempt. Rage. Exhaustion. Hurt.

It was only after years of being treated as though she had come to this land with the sole purpose of destroying it that Diana had adopted these emotions into her golden heart. Kal still remembered meeting her as a fierce warrior ready to protect this infantile race from anything. Including itself. How they had wronged her in return.

“We are better than them.”

“That’s why they need us, Diana,” he tried to reason for what felt like the millionth time. His hand, outreached to grasp her shoulder, was brushed away with a force that would have shattered a mortal man’s whole arm. She stalked off silent and terrible, leaving him to gaze after her questioning his whole being.

Outside the gates the people screamed. Screamed for his protection. Screamed for his blood.

It was time he headed inside.

It had been claimed once, that if he wanted to, Superman could rip the roof off the White House, grab the president, and leave without issue. However, as he surveyed the reception room, using his X-ray vision to scan all around and above him he guessed he would have a great deal of trouble locating the president if such a plan were to occur to him. The space within the House was sprawling, the six metahumans present not feeling crowded in the room they entered even with their impressive bulk. Diana stood off to the side, studying the portrait painted across the majority of the wall space. It showed little people doing little things in their little world and the Amazon wrinkled her perfect nose at it.

“The president will join you in just a moment,” a fine tailored man informed them all, stepping into the room like he dealt with these sort of meetings everyday. Kal figured he did, but that he wasn’t used to being faced with metahumans since he flinched visibly as the Flash appeared at his side having just a moment ago been across the large room. He dwarfed the man -honestly they all did- perhaps twice his width and a whole head taller than him. He smiled down at him jovially as was his nature with all non-work interactions.

“Pleased to meet ya!” He reached out and shook the man’s hand. Too rough, too fast. “Are you gonna be in on this meeting? It’s kind of a big deal.”

“Barry,” Kal warned lightly, “Give the man space.”

“You’re making him uncomfortable.”

The League all turned at Martian Manhunter’s announcement. They hadn’t meant to make the human uncomfortable. Except for perhaps Diana who was still scowling from beside Hal Jordan who had also taken to observing the portraits. The suited man was sweating now, looking far less confident than when he had walked into the room. If secret service felt he was in any danger, they didn’t move to protect him. Kal heard a group of people approaching from the higher levels. 

“Y-Yes,” the man stammered before quickly backtracking when Superman himself frowned at him, “I mean no! I mean-....! You’re not making me uncomfortable.” He turned back to Barry, “But yes, I will be in the meeting. I’m the Deputy Chief of Staff.”

The red-clad super crowed his impressment, immediately shooting off at the mouth as the approaching group of people started closing in and the secret service agents began to grow tense. The others noticed this. Even Barry who shifted his weight from one foot to the other at a, for him, painfully slow pace indicating he probably wanted to run but knew it could earn him a bullet in the back. Diana looked like she was angrily lamenting the absence of her lasso which Kal had forbidden her to bring. None of them carried any weapons. Outside of themselves.

The president entering a room was not too different from any of them entering a room on this planet. Everyone stopped and stared. If the secret service thought they were going to step back and give him space, they were sorely disappointed when instead the supers simply crowded in closer as if all looking for a reason this human was special above all others. Superman walked to the front of them, Barry stepping back at a glacial pace, and nodded his head down at the leader of the free world. 

“Mister President.”

“Superman.” The man’s voice was smooth; baritone. He looked up at the assembled heroes and while his stance and upped level of security spoke of wariness, his eyes shown with honest admiration and warmth. He was in awe of them, as if not truly believing they existed until that moment in time when he beheld them with his own eyes. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“The honor is ours, sir,” Kal assured him, stepping to the side to introduce his team. One by one they stepped up and shook the man’s hand, Barry remembering to do so at a normal speed, until Wonder Woman stepped forward hands fisted at her sides.

“You would receive us in a room with no chairs?”

“Diana.”

They didn’t need chairs; they didn’t need to sit. They could all stand there for hours, perhaps days without growing weary or tired. Fatigue and hunger would not gnaw at them, nor would thirst or ailment. The meeting could have been arranged in the most barren of deserts or at the top of an arctic mountain and it would not have affected the heros in the slightest. They all knew this, the princess was just being hostile. She still had not offered her hand.

“Of course not,” the man assured her, face still open and honest as he stepped aside to allow her to pass before him. An unheard of courtesy at this level of governmental power. “We’ll be speaking in the Oval Office with the rest of my staff.”

More humans. For one man could not run the free world alone.

Diana scoffed again, head held high as she marched through the secret service agents, casting them all warning looks as they eyed her powerful legs. The men of the team followed behind silently, the president bringing up the rear at Superman’s shoulder. They spoke low and politely of things inconsequential. A long desire to meet, a thankfulness for the pleasant weather, a hopefulness for the fruits this meeting would bear. On and on, roundabout and never truly saying anything.

The Oval Office was located in the West Wing and had three large south-facing windows behind the president's desk, and a fireplace at the north end. It had four doors: the east door opening to the Rose Garden; the west door leading to a private study; the northwest door opening onto the main corridor they had just walked; and the northeast door serving as the entrance to the office of the president's secretary. Kal scanned each connecting room briefly, and nodded to the others once he was sure they were not being ambushed. They all settled in.

For all the fuss she had made about the chairs Diana refused to sit, instead standing near the back of the room flanked by secret service and Barry who knew sitting was a useless endeavor. Kal took a seat delicately on one of the two couches in the center of the room. J’onn J’onzz and Hal sat on either side of him and the president was directly across. All members of his staff were spread out in the room occupying chairs and wall space as they stared openly at the metahumans in their midst. The president’s desk was left vacant. 

The room was tense. Silent.

“Let’s get down to business then shall we?”

The statement was not brisk, or even particularly business like, and it was clear the president was trying to break the unease that was very evident. Still Kal’s eyes flicked minutely to the side as Diana shifted unhappily and the Manhunter huffed out an inaudible sigh. They were not impressed.

“Mister President, our kinds have been at odds for many years,” the Man of Steel stated matter-of-factly, “Ever since I revealed myself to the public.”

Everyone in the room nodded for lack of anything better to do. It was true; ever since Superman had fallen from the sky the number of metahumans out to the public had multiplied to a number nearly unprecedented. The whole of the human race had barely even known advanced beings existed among them and now there was at least one in every major city. Fawcett City alone had seen the unearthing of an entire magically enhanced family plus other outliers to boot. If the world had been afraid of Superman, they were terrified at the idea of more of him. An army of him.

More and more metahumans were arriving, being created, or even born every day. And so far they had not been welcomed with open arms.

“Your existence was...troubling to the world, but I don’t want there to be ill will between humans and metahumans,” the president conceded, his staff nodding their agreements from around the room, “What can we do?”

“Superman believes he has thought of a solution,” J’onn spoke up for the first time, his modulated monotone making the humans gathered jump. Of all present he was perhaps the most alien with his green skin, red eyes, and -to the humans- a nearly indecent amount of flesh on display. The staff looked as if they hadn’t expected him to speak at all; were shocked that he even had the ability. “Kal?”

Superman took his teammate’s lead, turning back to the whole assemblage.

“It is my belief that the best way to foster unity with our races is to integrate them.” Everyone around seemed rather unimpressed with this idea, turning to the president with eyebrows and shoulders lifted. 

What more can we do? Their faces seemed to ask. Don’t we already let them live among us in disguise?

The president smiled warmly. Placatingly.

“Superman,” he intoned, “There are already many metahumans living among us from day to day. It’s not so easy to say ‘integrate’ and expect-”

“You are thinking I mean to integrate my people by letting them live and work beside you,” the Man of Steel interrupted, noting how everyone else tensed at his presumed audacity, “But as you’ve just said we already do that. Far more of us than you are even aware of live very...human lives, undetected and unknown.”

If he had hoped that this information would be taken in stride, or even jovially, his hopes were dashed as across the room several staff members broke out in a sweat, grew red in the face with anger, or let their eyes zoom around fearfully, possibly thinking of which of their loved ones unknowingly lived next door to an alien. Superman watched all this unmoved, his teammates noting the poor reaction to this news as well, each showing discontent in the subtle shifts of their powerful bodies. Martian Manhunter sighed low down in his chest, the sound breaking like a wave over the room and bringing chilling silence as the humans paused to watch his mighty chest expand and deflate. He was growing tired of their haywire thoughts.

“The meaning of integration that I meant was combining two things together to make a whole.”

“And how would you suggest doing that?” a woman piped up, seated on a chair near the door. She had a sharp suit on and hair slicked up into a severe looking bun. Her face screamed confidence and boldly even spoke of contempt, but Superman could literally smell the fear on her. She was sweating down the back of her suit jacket. Kal-El turned the full force of his stare on her.

“I have a desire to protect my people just as you have a desire to protect yours,” he began lightly, head dipped slightly in a non-threatening position, “But neither of us can achieve this goal if we are constantly at odds with each other.” Here he turned back to the president, releasing the woman from his hold, noting in his peripherals how she slumped with relief. “Every day more from both our sides die because we cannot work together. Metahumans in particular, already the minority, see our numbers dwindle as we are targeted. We must live together as one.”

“But how can we achieve this?” the president asked, seeming honestly interested in helping the cause as he leaned forwards towards the Justice League, ignoring the hands of his staff members trying to pull him back to safety. “How can we integrate?”

“You must allow us to enter your world and see us as one of you,” Clark Kent insisted. “To do this I believe one thousand humans should be paired with one thousand metahumans for the purpose of procreation so that our people can finally be one.”

Here a collective gasp went up around the room, peppered with scattered exclamations of astonishment. Of disgust. The woman who had spoken up looked ready to faint right out of her chair as the president’s staff fell into chaos at the super human’s suggestion. The president himself had drained of color and Kal watched him very closely as he sat back, obviously in deep thought. He took a moment to glance back at his Justice League and had to withhold a sigh. 

Hal was blowing air out through his lips, pale cheeks expanded exaggeratedly beneath his mask. Barry looked equal parts amused and disappointed, his arms crossing and uncrossing over his chest at a speed that grew quicker and quicker with each unfolding. Diana, of course, was absolutely repulsed with the proceedings and looked as if she were holding herself back from picking up the nearest human and ripping him in half with her super strength. J’onn had merely raised his cowl and now stared out of it at the tiny humans, red eyes glowing in ill hidden annoyance. Kal sighed and wished not for the first time that Aquaman could have been in attendance. He always knew what to say.

“Superman,” the president finally spoke up at last, scooting forward on his couch cushion, “What you’re talking about has been illegal in our society for years. I mean...arranged marriage-!”

“For the betterment of both races,” Hal finally joined in, back straight as he glanced at his leader for permission to continue. “It would benefit everyone.”

“But we can’t force women to marry you...people!” The burly man who had spoken looked like he truly loathed referring to those before him as people and the Justice League all tensed under his hateful glare. “It’s medieval!”

 

“We would only receive willing volunteers, of course,” Martian Manhunter reasoned from beneath is hood, voice low and sweeping, “And we’d take both men and women.”

“Who would volunteer for such a thing?” A different woman this time. One who flinched and seemed ready to hop up onto a desk to avoid the withering glare Diana had shot her as soon as she opened her mouth. Surprisingly enough the Princess of Themyscira moved forward to defend her leader and his plan, planting herself firmly in the center of the room as she spoke.

“In return for your volunteers,” she bit out, the word a stony pebble in the toe of everyone’s shoe, “The human race, and American citizens especially, could consider themselves under the protection of the Justice League and all superhuman kind. You would be forever safe from any and all invasions. Foreign, domestic, and intergalactic.”

“Your crime rate would be way down,” Barry cut in, boyish grin at the ready to ease all worry. But his attempt at charm only seemed to stir the pot further, more voices than ever rising up from the assemblage. A particularly plum faced man from the back stood up, sputtering over his outrage as he faced off against the protectors of Earth.

“The only reason we even have such high crime,” he began, “Is because your lot revealed themselves!“ Here he pointed a stubby finger towards the League. “Your freakish powers attract freakish criminals and now whole cities are at risk of being completely overrun by maniacs! Gotham, Coast City, Metropolis; they’re all in ruin now because of your kind!”

“They just want to take advantage of weaker women! We can’t let them!” The woman with the bun again. She’d gone pale in the face, the starchy collar suddenly looking like it was choking her as her eyes bulged. “We can’t let them!”

The room was quickly devolving into total anarchy as nearly all humans present began to pipe up about the outrageousness of such an idea. Faces that had before been smooth with a calm indifference now grew wane and frightened as they revealed their true colors, slurring hate speech about metahumans as if there was not six of the most powerful ones present right before them. The man who’d first stood out of turn had slowly stomped forward, finger still rigid with accusation as he addressed his Commander in Chief.

“Mister President, you can’t listen to a thing they say!” he growled, stupidly unintimidated by the fact he was within arms length of Wonder Woman herself. The Amazon had fire in her eyes as he continued. “They just want to create more of their kind so they can take us over! They want this world for themselves!”

He’d gone too far.

Diana reached up and grabbed his hand, too quick for Superman to intervene, and crushed the chubby digits within her grasp. The sound of bones snapping and cracking brought the room to a cold silence as the man’s face went blood red, his screams of pain locked somewhere in his jaw. He fell to the ground with a sort of whistling cry, his useless hand clutched to his chest. The woman did faint now, the heavy ‘thump’ of her body hitting the floor seeming to spring everyone into action as they all scrambled to get as far away as possible. Chairs were knocked to the ground as the secret service crowded the president, guns drawn though they had to have known they were useless.

“Please, everyone-”

Superman’s words went ignored as there was a mad dash to the door, all humans trying to escape the room at once, moving in a herd like a scared bunch of gazelles. Barry beat them there, however, and shrugged apologetically as they were forced to backtrack. The secret service lost their guns to Martian Manhunter and Hal thought up a glowing green force field to push everyone back against the wall. The only human left to move about freely was the president who had been jostled to his knees in all the commotion. He shook like a leaf, his false sense of security having been thoroughly demolished

“N-No, no!” he stammered as Diana gripped his shirt front and yanked him clean of the ground. She was tall, taller than any human woman, and the man’s feet dangled, toes barely brushing carpet as she looked him in the eye.

“You will listen,” she seethed, “Or you will see what true strength is.”

When she dropped him back down it was into a chair. His whole chest was heaving and Clark worried he was about to go into cardiac arrest, but a quick scan of his chest saw that his heart was healthy, just terrified. He kept his voice soothing, his demeanor innocent.

“Mister President, please,” he began again, “We cannot see each other as anything more than enemies if we do not start to build a new world for all of us.”

“What you’re asking for would be nearly impossible,” the man finally managed, seeming to calm as he realized no immediate harm was going to come to him or his staff. “To ask one thousand women to give up their lives-”

“Men would be accepted too,” Superman assured, “There are just as many female metahumans as male.” He made a small gesture in Diana’s direction, not truly wanting to remind anyone of her presence at that moment. Behind Hal’s shield people were banging against the green and the man with the crushed hand had vomited down the front of his suit. “And it would be strictly voluntary,” he continued, “No one would be forced into this program against their will.”

“Program?” It was almost a laugh, devoid though it was of any true humor. The man quaked, the weight of the world resting on his shoulders which were not half so wide as the Man of Steel’s. He glanced up at him. “You seem to have this all figured out.”

“Lets just say it’s been on my mind for a while.”

The president nodded. He glanced back at his staff, willing to do anything to see them make it out of their current situation unharmed. The metahumans watched him closely, a select few even listening in to the wild thrumming of his heart. He glanced up again.

“I suppose we should...draw up some sort of document?”

“Already done.” From within the confines of his long cape Martian Manhunter drew a crisp bundle of paper, nearly fifty pages thick, which had already been signed by the entirety of the Justice League, heads of super teams all across the US, and the one human who had chosen to represent them on the legal end of all of this. He handed it over to the president, a pen floating not far behind.

“Can I read it?”

“You’d be a rather poor leader of the free world if you didn’t.”

If said leader was insulted by what the telepath was insinuating he didn’t show it, instead devoting all of his attention to the document he’d just been handed. It was as legitimate as it could have been, binding in places even a president would not have thought to make it so. By signing he was agreeing not only to the surrender and delivery of one thousand American citizens into the arms of the supers, but also to a cease and desist to any and all action taken to apprehend, harm, or even identify outed metahumans. If the US government failed to meet with these demands they would be freed from the protection of super-humankind, forced to fend for themselves in a world that was rapidly changing to be more suited for people such as those standing before him. 

He looked up.

He didn’t agree with this. Not one bit. Had he known such a crazy plan was going to be lain out before him during this meeting he would have told the Justice League to not even bother arriving since he could not, in good conscience, agree to this. It felt wrong somehow. For all the talk of only taking volunteers into the program and the fact that metahumans were there to protect Earth, it felt wrong to just let them go off and marry regular humans. Unnatural. People could worship these otherworlders all they wanted -even the president himself had been giddy at the thought of meeting the man who was faster than a speeding bullet- but to marry and procreate with them went against all laws of nature. It wasn’t right.

He signed the document with a shaky breath, head reeling as to how they would get out of this. The alien took the form telepathically, red eyes boring into him as if it could see his soul. Perhaps it could. The president stood, palms slick and heart thumping. He stammered something along the lines of it looking like they had a deal and then avoided eye contact with each of these titans until the one clad in green and black released his cabinet from their prison. They all rushed forward, voices shrill and begging, telling him not to agree to this absurdity, not to give the aliens what they wanted, but it was too late. He had signed over one thousand of his people to save less than twenty. But now together they could figure a way out. 

“It was an honor to meet you, Superman,” he lied, sweat drops hidden within his perfectly styled hair.

“And you.”

No one followed the Justice League out of the building. No one kept a watchful eye to ensure they did not turn back and take the White House hostage. No one could even try to stop such a revolt if they wanted to and no one wanted to. The super humans made it back out onto the lawn unaccompanied and undaunted. The press were still clawing like animals at the gate, hungry for what had happened behind closed doors. The group of superhumans observed them through squinted eyes each.

“He’s going to betray us,” Martian Manhunter announced to no one in particular, having gazed into the small man’s mind when he was at his weakest. If any were surprised at this revelation they hid it in rigid stances that were forever ready for battle. Superman even managed a careless smile into the distance.

“Let him try.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t understand,” Raven said, her screams from the day’s earlier therapy session having turned her usual tenor into a scratchy baritone. The little doctor across from her tilted her head at a put-upon angle, silvery blonde ponytail falling over her shoulder.

“It’s really quite simple,” Dr. Quinzel assured, glasses briefly catching in the overhead light and causing a glare to flash across Raven’s eyes. She flinched. “Should you choose to take part in this program, we’d do a standard physical, a brief questionnaire, and if you pass both you’re free to go. Released into the custody of the Justice League.”

The young woman in asylum issued pajamas shifted awkwardly in her seat, amethyst eyes glancing up the long row of tables that had been set up in what usually passed for the cafeteria. At each table sat an equally polished and plastic doctor, chatting with forced cheeriness to various patients of the hospital. Men and women from different wards had been let out of solitary to sit there bleary eyed and listen to some pitch about a mysterious program run by the superhumans known as the Justice League. 

Raven took note that none of her truly manic neighbors were present. Only occupants that could pass as typical if seen on the street were made to shuffle to this meeting. Ones who, unless you were very observant, you wouldn’t notice had healing scrapes beneath their hair from tugging at it during honest fits of hysteria. Ones who could hold perfectly calm conversations until the rice pudding on their tray slid over and touched the mashed potatoes, at which point they’d shut down like a miscared for machine and have to be rolled away. Ones who, unless you’d shared paper-thin walls with them day in and day out for weeks, you wouldn’t know howled at the ceiling during the odd hours of the night.

Raven acknowledged quietly that she could definitely pass for normal in Gotham. Even with the purple hair and red chakra diamond, she didn’t twitch or stammer or bite or howl. So she guessed she was considered ‘good enough’ to be offered a spot in this program. Near across the other side of the hall she recognized the girl from the room across from hers. Small and frail looking, she had white-blonde hair that fell all the way down her back, brushing the metal chair she sat on as she rocked minimally back and forth, listening quietly to the doctor sitting across from her.

“How soon would I be released?” the purple haired patient inquired. Dr. Quinzel ticked her head the other direction as if it were the weighted end of a pendulum, keeping the time of her wasted morning.

“Immediately.”

She agreed.

Without any further questions or fussing she agreed, the only thought permeating her mind that she would soon be released from hell, her delusions be damned. At this point the lonely teen was ready to continue facing them on her own as she had been doing for near a decade. The pretty doctor fawned fakely, noting her bravery and service to her race and then stood and left. In her place came to sit another asylum employee who had been lying in wait for her agreement. He held a clipboard and pen and a completely uninterested scowl.

“What’s your name?”

“Raven Roth.”

“Age?”

“Seventeen.”

“Do you have any reason to believe you may be infertile?”

The inquiry pulled her up short and made her fold in on herself as her mind started to attempt guesses at what this program was really all about. Her reply was mumbled through chapped lips. Some half truth, half lie about being regular with her flow since the age of 12. Her period had indeed started at 12, but as she grew older and gaunter, there would be months when the blood never came. At that moment she had not even spotted since weeks before entering the madhouse. If the man thought she was being dishonest, he was not interested enough to follow up on his hunch. He went on with the questions, quite a few being related to her physicalities and history of pregnancies if any. She continued answering in a dead monotone, putting on the brave face she imagined she would need to dawn throughout this entire ordeal once she was handed over to the League. 

Raven was pretty withdrawn from society, but even she knew about the super beings that had started popping up all over the country during her adolescence. The Justice League in particular, a fairly newer organization of metahumans, were at the forefront of the media coverage on these apparent aliens and Raven had spent many a chilly day curled up in the common area listening as the tiny ten inch spat out static filled news of the heros.

Most recognizable was Superman, of course. The Man of Steel as some reporters had taken to calling him. He had come into the public eye when Raven was only eight and she’d been awestruck at the shere size of him, gargantuan even through a TV screen. The S emblazoned on his chest had become a symbol of hope and dread as she made her way through her knobby kneed preteen years and she honestly wasn’t sure which stories about the man to believe most days. Whether he was a hero or a monster.

At his side before any others was the one they called Wonder Woman. A true goddess among men, her blazing armor and glowing lasso had made Raven feel like maybe she could be as strong and beautiful as this woman one day. The Amazon had apparently lived for decades amongst the American public, hiding in plain view with her gorgeous face never aging through the years. But she was hard now, eyes like stone every time she glared out over a crowd during an interview. Her quiet contempt had chilled a 14 year old Raven and made her feel quite alone as her odd episodes had begun to grow in intensity. She was no Wonder Woman.

Two more were with them when they presented themselves as a team for the first time. Aquaman and the Flash. Physical opposites in every way, young Raven had marveled at the burly man from the sea and the skinny boy with the lightning bolts. All together they had seemed an odd assortment of folks, and though they had pledged publicly to protect mankind, the protests against them had been rampant and polarizing. Raven remembered walking through a crowd of angry people with red splattered signs, hood pulled low over her head as she moved towards Arkham Asylum.

The team’s most recent members had not helped matters. Martian Manhunter was more alien than the ship that had come to claim Superman all those years ago and the Green Lantern admitted openly that he was only one of thousands. There had been panic in every home as they and more supers outed themselves everyday soon able to claim the title of a legit minority group rather than just a few oddballs. In every major city in America there was a family or team or league of metahumans that could take the metropolis hostage if the whim were to strike.

And Raven was surrendering herself into their care.

When the questions finally finished she was shuffled out of the room in a long line of patients that had apparently passed the ‘test’. She saw her blonde neighbor in line, arms hugged tightly around her wispy frame as if attempting to keep herself from falling into pieces. They were marched through the halls silently and Raven had a brief thought that this had all been a farce. A cruel trick meant to placate them so that they moved quietly along to be lobotomized, or some other such horror. She tried to dig deep to find it in herself to care and was unable.

Her morbid prediction proved false as the patients were separated -males from females- and were pushed into the communal showers Raven had come to loathe during her time there. They were told to strip and shower quickly and with soap still in their eyes were pushed back into a different hall where a row of examination tables had been set up. Raven had wound up next to her neighbor in all the commotion and her oddly colored eyes flitted over the girls form quickly, own arms folded over her modest chest. The girl was thin like wire, her bones and joints sticking out in what could only be painful visibility. Her eyes were a cloudy blue color and unusually large compared to her nose and mouth which looked childishly small in comparison.

“Lines of five at every table,” a nurse shouted through the muffling of her face mask, “Hop on for your physical.”

It was a painfully slow process and Raven shivered violently as she waited for her turn. Though most of the women were done without much pageantry and then moved along to the next hall, a few garnered closer examination. A longer look into their ear or mouth, a higher number of pumps on the sphygmomanometer. Raven watched as her neighbor was made to lift and lower her arms above her head repeatedly for what seemed like an eternity, every time she was actually able to complete the task coming as a sincere surprise. Raven’s own exam was done in a matter of moments, the doctor casting a glance to her wide hips and saying she ‘looked healthy enough’. The young woman was positive doctors were not meant to make such comments, let alone base their diagnosis on them, but said nothing.

Seven women were made to return to their rooms after being examined.

In the next hall they grabbed greedily from piles of mismatched clothes that had belonged to some poor souls long before them. Raven wondered if her beloved hoodie had already been snatched up by some other unfortunate girl with features she wanted to hide within its depths. She ended up with a pair of ill-fitting blue jeans that she had to roll to her calves. The long sleeved black shirt she dawned fell off her shoulder, but was more her style. The underwear and white flats were hospital issued. No bras were provided.

Hair still damp from the frigid shower, they were circled back around to the now empty cafeteria where the men had already congregated looking equally disheveled. It appeared more of them had failed the physical than the women. Mixed together like they were, murmures of anticipation started to spread through the ranks. Every other person looked like they were in some sort of astonished daze.

They were really being released.

“Attention!” called a no-nonsense looking man from the front of the room. He was dressed in an army uniform, hair cut short to his scalp though he still had a healthy helping of dirty blonde facial hair. Beside him was Dr. Crane, Raven’s psychologist. Beyond him, the exit. “My name is Colonel Rick Flag. You have all been carefully selected for a government backed program involving the superhuman team known as the Justice League. Me and my team are here to ensure you are safely delivered to Metropolis where Superman himself will explain the details of the program.”

At the mention of his ‘team’ Raven noticed all at once that each door of the room was blocked by a person in what appeared to be riot gear, large guns held across their chests. She shivered, but reasoned to herself that they could not be too careful while dealing with people who were certifiably insane. She refocused on Colonel Flag who went on to explain his expectations as they made their way to transport. He made it profoundly clear that any attempt to rebel, or cause mayhem, would be met with harsh correction. More comments rippled through the patients like a babbling brook, some admitting they were inclined to make a run for it anyway, others declaring whatever the super humans had waiting could not be worse than their current situation.

Raven stayed silent, already knowing she would not attempt to run and risk being sent back to Arkham, or worse.

“Alright, let's move out!” 

After that it was a organized dash to get outside as soon as possible. Somewhere along the way, one of the doctors had actually made a list of all the patients being released and they were called one by one to exit. Her neighbor was called and she found out her name was Terra Markov. The girl ran from the room as if a fire had been lit under her. Anyone left off the list had snuck into the proceedings at one point or another and were forcibly removed from the room, howling all the way. Raven was just glad when her name was called and hurried forward to present herself. She passed the colonel as she went and he shot her what could almost be considered a sympathetic look, but she ignored it and blinked in the sunlight as she stepped outside for the first time in three months.

Usually disillusioned with anything that the average person would consider beautiful, Raven was surprised to feel herself getting choked up at the sight of the sky. It was still blue after all this time and she found herself wanting to stand under it just a bit longer as a soldier gently grabbed her elbow and steered her towards a bus already stuffed to the brim with freed lunatics. She was passed along and along by soldiers until being deposited in a seat next to a pale woman with flaming red hair. She glanced only briefly at Raven, eyes finding her shakra diamond, before flying back out the window where she appeared to be gazing at the imposing willow tree that stood guard just within the asylum’s iron gates.

It took nearly an hour to get them all situated into three different buses, a few getting turned right back into the asylum after attempting to run away. Raven’s leg jumped and jittered as she waited for them to pull out, still half convinced they were only being toyed with. The bus was quiet but for a few uncontrollable outbursts and the silence only made her leg jangle faster. She stopped only when she felt a cold hand rest atop her thigh. Whipping her head around, she stared at her seatmate, scared of what this stranger would do.

“Relax,” the woman’s sultry voice coached. She continued to look out the window. “We’re free now, no matter what they do to us.”

Her delicate fingers slipped away, back into her own lap, and Raven nodded to herself. Even if they were corralled and shot now, at least she would not die in that awful place. She was free. She huffed and let her body relax resignedly, ready for whatever would come. When the bus actually hissed and jerked forward a trembling smile graced her lips for a moment. She glanced at the readhead and saw a similar smile reflected in the window pane. 

“What were you in for?” she tried to joke, her tone falling flat even to her own ears. The woman turned to her fully for the first time and Raven was struck by her beauty. She had piercing green eyes over a smattering of freckles and when she smiled demurely, her naturally rosy lips spread over perfect teeth. She sighed daintily.

“I used to be a botanist,” she said proudly, slender shoulders seeming to straighten as Raven’s eyebrows raised in unoffending surprise, “I studied advanced botanical biochemistry under Dr. Jason Woodrue and was pretty damn good at it if I do say so myself.”

“What went wrong?”

The woman’s eye twitched minutely and Raven flinched right along with it, but nothing happened. Her seatmate shrugged, throwing her flowing hair over her shoulder as if at a real loss.

“I suppose,” she mused lightly, eyebrow hitched up, “I may have been a bit too impressed with him. And invested in saving the planet.” Her eye twitched again. “I let him run some experiments on me that left me a little…” she waved vaguely near her temple. Outside the window, Gotham zoomed by. “Worse for wear.”

Raven nodded silently, not needing further explanation. The redhead asked how she had wound up under the care of Dr. Crane and the teen explained, with a rather cynic smirk, that she had delusions of horrifying grandeur in the form of visions and reading thoughts. The former botanist found this very interesting and the two discussed it briefly. Raven had not had a true chance to confer about this with anyone that wasn’t trying to eradicate the supposed illness and found that talking to this gorgeous woman about it eased some of the tension that had been building in her chest since before she could remember. If only someone at the asylum had thought to talk to her about her problems.

“I’m Raven,” she introduced some time later just as the bus began to slow. They had reached the train that would take them to Metropolis. The botanist gripped her hand in smooth fingers.

“Pamela.”

The buses stopped and they were moved out again. The train station was empty but for their odd congregation and Pamela whispered to her that they had probably cleared civilians for their own safety. Raven agreed. Soldiers bracketed an impromptu pathway around them and they moved towards the one monorail present. Colonel Flag was waiting for them.

“You will board this train and be delivered to Metropolis at which time you will officially be under the command of the Justice League,” he began without much spectacle. They all shifted their weight around in their uncomfortable shoes. “Do not attempt to disrupt the course of the monorail or you will be neutralized.”

Pamela snorted under her breath, emerald eyes rolling beneath their lids, as Raven felt a shiver go down her spine. She glanced all around and noticed even more people seemed to have been left behind on the buses, set to return to Arkham. Flag turned it over to another soldier with another list and soon they were being separated again, herded onto different cars just as another set of buses pulled up. Emblazoned across their sides were the words ‘Blackgate Penitentiary’. 

Pamela squeezed Raven’s hand lightly when she was called to board the first car and parted with a smile. The teen was sad to see her go and hoped they would see eachother again in Metropolis. She was put in one of the back cars and was granted the gift of the window seat this time around as she waited for everyone else to board. The benches around her slowly filled up, no person allowed to choose their own spot until one of Flag’s men marched over a young girl with bubblegum pink hair whose fierce scowl made her opinions of the proceedings very clear. The soldier set her down none too gently beside Raven and stomped off after removing her handcuffs. Raven tried to keep her eyes trained anywhere else, but couldn’t help glancing over at the girl as she scoffed loudly and crossed her arms.

“If I’d known this program was going to be just like prison I wouldn't have bothered,” she grumbled, teeth grinding almost audibly as the last few seats were filled. Her outfit also looked like it had been thrown together with the odds and ends of other people’s wardrobes, her khaki shorts falling well past her knees. She glanced over at Raven, eyes as pink as her hair, and glared. “Are you some sort of looney? Are you going to snap on me as soon as the train starts?”

Raven denied this and allowed the girl to continue to gripe without comment. It seemed many of the people brought from the prison weren’t actually too happy to be there, complaining openly about the situation they all found themselves in. Raven wondered again what kind of program the Justice League was running if they accepted maniacs and criminals into it. Were they going to be target practice for super humans? Hunting game?

Once the train was full and under way the pink haired girl continued their conversation though it was less a conversation and more Raven listening to her prattle.

Her name was Jinx.

She was sixteen.

She had been locked up for theft.

She found this wholly unfair since her cohorts had fled without her and so escaped punishment.

She had hoped to flee during transition that day, but the guard placed on prisoners was even heavier than the guard placed on patients.

“What do you think they want with us?” she snapped, at last inviting Raven to actually participate in the discussion. The older teen blinked and shrugged, wishing for the millionth time that day for a hood to pull over her head.

“No idea,” she admitted, glancing out the window. She had never left New Jersey before. “But I can’t imagine it’s really that good.”

“You’re telling me,” Jinx scoffed, tossing a pigtail over her shoulder. “What type of program would need the likes of us?”

Raven agreed with this assessment, but didn’t say so as a few people near them decided to butt into the dialogue. The soldiers had been clear they were meant to remain in their seats, but didn’t seem to mind as they twisted around and raised their voices to converse about their odd circumstances. The prisoners more than the patients seemed to have some very hard hitting thoughts on the entire mess and spoke up grouchily about how even though they were criminals they were not cattle. Two women sat behind them, Cassandra and Selina, explained with damnably supportive details about how the whole thing reeked of an illegal sex ring.

“But there’s men being transported too,” Jinx argued, magenta eyes slitted in what Raven guessed was probably doggedly hidden worry. Selina raised a perfect brow at the girl as if she were truly naive. Raven could imagine her in her fondly spoke of catsuit, trickling into someone’s life unannounced only to rob them blind as soon as their guard was down.

She challenged, “You think men can’t be forced into that kind of slavery too?”

The teens had no reply and soon the talk had been steered in another direction by Cassandra who Raven saw aim a subtle elbow into her seatmate’s ribs. Selina looked unrepentant. A flurry of theories were passed around the monorail, each less appealing than the last, before it was generally believed and accepted that they were being sold of into some form of indentured servitude to the metahumans to appease their alien bloodlust and save the nation from complete destruction. 

A noble cause they all agreed.

Worth getting out of their respective prisons for. 

Not the worst thing that had happened to them.

At some point Raven dozed off, head cradled between the window and her own shoulder, and the women surrounding her lowered their conversation to a dull murmur barely audible over the sound of the train engine. They were all surprisingly polite for a bunch of miscreants and lunatics. Raven dreamt in flashes and glimpses, no one thing taking solid form beneath her eyelids which was a blessing. She’d been plagued with nightmares since childhood and didn’t relish the thought of waking up in a panicked sweat after the day she’d had. She let the motions of her transport rock her gently in and out of consciousness until a crackling sounded over the speaker system. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Colonel Flag’s voice echoed around them, sounding sarcastic in his honorifics, “We are now entering New Troy station of Metropolis. From this point on your slate is wiped clean. Once you step off this train you will be amongst the general population who have volunteered for this program as well as under the scrutiny of the Justice League and their allies.”

The train was abuzz with chatter; positive and doubtful, grateful and scheming. Raven blinked the last bit of sleep from her eyes and sat up straight, startling slightly when she felt Jinx reach over and clasp her fingers lightly. The pink haired villain was sitting poised on the edge of her seat like a hare ready to flee with small tremors shaking her frame every few moments. The locomotive rolled to a plaintive stop. Behind them Selina and Cassandra had gone quiet. Raven squeezed her seatmate’s hand.

“Good luck.”

The doors hissed open and they were ushered out, Flag’s men doing an admirable job of staying hidden from the civilians already on the platform while still dictating their every move. Raven and Jinx had silently agreed to stay as a pair as they shambled out of their seats and then out of the car. The crowd on the platform was a lively bunch, with hundreds of people of varying ages, sexes, and races milling about talking animatedly about meeting the Justice League. Immediately it was impossible to tell inmate from school teacher from patient from storeroom clerk. They were all just people.

“This is wild,” Jinx murmured, lips close to Raven’s ear as they leaned into each other in an attempt to avoid being jostled. Raven’s reply was lost in a weak groan at the back of her throat as she began to sweat.

It had been so long since she’d been in a crowd that wasn’t being herded to a sad excuse for a cafeteria that she suddenly felt her heart rate increase. Each person that moved pass her, shoulders brushing near her eye line, caused her to flinch further into Jinx. The cacophony of voices pounded against her eardrums until it felt as if they were scattering around the interior of her skull. Excitement and fear and loathing and euphoria swirled through her all at once and Raven thought she may actually be sick. 

Jinx in comparison seemed merely annoyed with the chaos and was eyeing everyone around them suspiciously. They’d been moved, against their will, towards the exit of the station were the ‘general population’ was beginning to pool out into a large quad across the street from the station. All mixed together like livestock they approached the area that had a large stage set up in front of a fountain from which a humongous statue of Superman was flying. Compared to Gotham, Metropolis was surprisingly cool and the sheep all subconsciously huddled closer together with their strange neighbors as they waited for something to happen. 

“Raven!”

The teen whipped her head around at the sound of her name and searched the crowd. Over heads and around shoulders some ten feet away was Pamela, beautiful smile on display as she waved at Raven. Hidden near behind her was her blonde neighbor from the asylum, looking even smaller out in the world than she had in the stifling environment of the hospital. Raven waved, feeling like she was finally being driven to insanity as the white noise of a mic being cleared filled the air. A hush fell over the crowd and they all turned towards the stage. Where once there had merely been an empty plank of plywood now stood a plump man that appeared to be sweating even as his breath came out in foggy puffs before his face.

“Hello,” his voice hissed through the system, causing a painful feedback that caused them all to wince. Raven frowned, barely able to see from their spot smack in the middle of the crowd. “I am Mayor Frank Berkowitz and it gives me great pleasure to introduce...the Justice League.”

Raven could only think that the mayor did not sound pleased at all before the wild roar at the mention of the super heros nearly caused her to pass out. She leaned heavily on Jinx, one hand up to cover the ear that wasn’t pushed to the other girl’s shoulder as the thunderous noise washed over and through her. Up in the front, a group of absolute Gods had taken the stage and were basking in the attention of the crowd, still as stone. Raven normally would have been secretly awestruck herself, but she could barely register their presence as she tried to put up some sort of wall between herself and all these feelings. 

Superman himself was at the front of the team and approached the microphone with all the calm reserve of a king, waving cordially to every corner of the packed quad. He allowed the applause to go on for a moment longer, to Raven’s dismay, before raising his hand for silence which fell immediately. It was as if the entire city were suddenly in a vacuum hanging on the Man of Steel’s every word. Raven, still shaken, felt herself angling forward as he himself leaned into the mic. He was even bigger in person and his voice fell over them like a thundering tidal wave.

“Welcome. Thank you all for volunteering for the Titan Marriage Program.”


End file.
